Todays Gospel Song

As we've been dreaming of electric sheep -
oh Lord, where do we come afrom?
And when we work at some genetic farm -
oh Lord, where do we all belong?
Life was given to create us all,
Good Lord, what was to come along,
to make us live
from that for which we once were borne?
Please, Lord, send a computer-form,
assuring us: Get on.
Genetic workers kneel at Sunday church,
requesting Father's blessing,
programmers sons do serve as altar boys,
computer games at mind?
When after church we join the winning team,
at stadium, on screen -
Lord, what were our thoughts
when we were in church –
accidentally Rambo-style?
What do we hail, what do we advertise,
if not what Father
sent His Son to praise:
the love between all men?
Hot air on Sundays was not meant,
when Jesus made His speech.
Some Monday work requires rebels yell,
when we do trust His Word.
These are your own eyes,
you just have got to open up,
your own ears got to hear,
your own strong body
got the strength to bear
the load of Fathers Word.
To see through windows
from your place of work
the tree, that stands across,
to hear the children play.